Eyes on Fire
by taniaSLC
Summary: My version of the Sheriff's idea of a pick-me-up for Guy following the end of Series 2. Rated M for later chapters.
1. I'm Not Scared

_Author's Note: This story takes place after the events of Series 2 and before the events of Series 3. So... ***SPOILERS*** for the end of series 2. (I, personally, don't have BBC America and am waiting for the DVD of the Third Series, so I have no idea what happens therein, so this will have nothing to do with the actual events of that series.)  
_

_This is just an idea that's been kicking around for a while, and I'm not certain how much I'll add to it. I figured I'd post the beginning and see if anyone likes it- or, I might keep going just for the heck of it.  
_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing in the universe of the BBC's Robin Hood- not Guy, not the Sheriff, not a thing. I mean no infringement, just some harmless fun. **

**Eyes On Fire**, _a Robin Hood fanfic_

"Valzey, this is slightly beyond the pale- even for you. I'd ask if you were serious, but I know enough to see that you are."

The Sheriff of Nottingham groaned. He had a piece of bread in his hands and, at my statement, he stopped picking off bits to feed his birds through their bars, and threw it sullenly against the wall. He walked to his desk, thumped down sulkily into his great chair, and groaned again.

"Why is it, when I finally relent, go against nature and the gods, and do something nice, no one gets it?"

I crossed to him, facing off across his hulking black desk.

"Because, to put it gently, Sheriff, altruism is not a quality you possess. Simply do me the courtesy of answering this one question, honestly, and I may consent to help you. Why do you ask me to do this thing?"

The Sheriff responded by blowing a raspberry. I'd forgotten how easily this beastly brute of a man might be mistaken for a spoilt ten year old.

I knew the answer without him saying it. As with all people, it was as if his every word, every flicker and rolling of his eyes, every gesture of his hands- all of it was underscored by his own voice translating, explaining his thoughts. The secret I'd had to figure out at an early age is that everyone in the world is anxious to confess all of their thoughts every moment of every day, I just happened to be one of the few with a capability to listen to their unspoken voices.

Just now, for instance, the Sheriff was saying this:

"He is the closest thing I have to a friend. His loyalty and devotion to me has, quite against my will, inspired something of the same in me. I'm frightened that Guy's mind has left and will never return. I need my only friend, my staunchest supporter, and my good right hand."

After a protracted charade of hemming and hawing, Valzey finally sniffed something about the difficulty of replacing his lieutenant. I'd been hoping for the slight miracle of true words coming from the mouth of the Sheriff, and I almost got it.

"So, there you are, Matilda- evidence that my dead, blackened heart can beat with honest intentions."

"You say you bring me here to mourn the loss of my cousin, but I arrive and find that, instead, you wish me to impersonate her- dead and all- in order to seduce your second-in-command. If I were to acquiesce, I would require one thing."

"I thought my honesty was all you asked."

"No, that was what I asked in order for me to entertain the notion of listening to you. I'm listening now. And what I need is this: an agreement, in your own hand and sealed with your own insignia, promising that you will not kill me or bring about my death. I've heard tales, Sheriff. I've heard that you tend to dispatch those who are no longer useful for your purposes, and I've no wish to join their ranks."

"Done."

He reached into his desk and pulled forth a parchment, a quill, and ink. Twenty minutes later, we'd arrived at words that suited us both, and he wrote them on the scroll. He melted ink, set his insignia in it, and handed it to me. I could already hear him thinking of ways to skirt the wording of the promise, just in case he decided to kill me despite all this effort.

"And, no, Sheriff, you won't be able to suggest to Guy of Gisborne that he murder me for you. When I'm done with him, his loyalty will belong to me, above even you. Fear not, though- I've no wish of it, and will see to it that is back to his normal, Nottingham-loving self. But I'm warning you- do not carry out any of those plans forming in that fetid little brain of yours. If I die, well, you remember who my cousin is?"

He looked at me and laughed. "I'd forgotten that you read thoughts, Matilda! Delightful. Now stop reading mine and never mention that cousin of your again. Phillip Augustus need not enter any of our thoughts. France to the French, England to the English, eh?"

"You know, Sheriff, you're a scoundrel and a double-crossing snake, but I like you for all that. I only wanted to remind you of a relative I have and my cousin didn't. Perhaps if she were related to the King of France it might have protected her."

"The only thing that could have protected Marian would have been if she'd seen sense and wed Guy of Gisborne. Or, failing that, if she hadn't loved Robin Hood. Or, if she hadn't been running around doing secretive good deeds and making herself an enemy of the Crown. Actually, she had a million chances to spare her own life and always chose the path of destruction. She practically begged Guy to kill her, really."

My blood chilled at his unspoken thought, "He saved me the trouble of doing it myself. Of course, I tried- damned girl was almost as indestructible as that lover of hers…" He smiled wistfully to himself, then caught me looking at him. Despite my best efforts, some of the revulsion I felt must have shown on my face.

"Good God, woman- you'd think someone who could read thoughts would be used to learning ugly truths; don't pretend I'm worse than anyone. And I told you to STOP DOING THAT!"

"Valzey, you need me too much to keep screaming in my face like that. I'm sure you'd hate to have me feeling out of sorts when I go to Sir Guy's rooms. I might not be able to perform to the best of my abilities."

"Ah, a cunning witch. Already you are proving more intelligent and worthwhile than that cousin of yours. So, tell me- planning to hope you just look and sound enough like Marian, or are you going to use a glamour of some sort?"

"If he's as far gone as you say, I doubt anything too intense will be required. You said that nothing in her rooms has been touched? I will wear her clothing, they probably still smell like her skin. That should be close enough. I'll dress like her, go to his rooms and…" Honestly, I hadn't quite had time to think much past that, but the Sheriff obviously had.

".. and then you simper, and pretend not to be interested, and tease him, just like she always did. And then, spread your legs, offer absolution in the attainment she never gave him in life. Then you leave, and he's back to himself, and I can get on with my normal routine of evil plans- sowing seeds of discontent and treason, et cetera. Got it?"

I nodded. He shook my hand and gestured for me to leave. I waited until I'd opened the door and turned back- "And, Sheriff- don't even think of watching through that peephole above Guy's bed. I'll know if you're there and I swear to whatever evil deity you hold holy- I will gouge out your eyes myself. You think you miss that tooth? You'll miss your eyes even more."


	2. Of Your Stolen Power

I approached the door to Sir Guy of Gisborne's rooms and did a quick assessment. My name is Matilda, and I'm regarded as something of a witch. Had my family not position, power, and estimable wealth, I might have been burned for it many time over. I was in Nottingham Castle, summoned by the Sheriff himself. He'd called me to attend the funeral of my cousin, the Lady Marian, lately of Knighton Hall. I had arrived to find that there was no funeral because there was no body. No one could know of her death because she'd been slain at the hand of Sir Guy of Gisborne in The Holy Land. She had died protecting the King, taking Guy's sword in his place. And, besides the stickiness of her demise, the Sheriff had hurried Guy back to England and had left Marian, presumably to die in the arms of her illicit lover, Robin Hood, lately Robin of Locksley.

The real reason I was here was to go to Guy in the guise of Marian and offer him forgiveness for killing her; for killing me, I suppose. I was to use my witching ways to heal his mind, which had been absent since arriving back on his native soil. He kept alone, refused to see absolutely anyone, including the Sheriff, and also refused meals. The servants whispered that they could hear him making noise in his rooms- sometimes unearthly wailing and keening, sometimes shouts of protestation, sometimes senseless words, and other times just her name.

I had to convince myself that what I was about to do- to "fix" Sir Guy, using the power Marian had but had never made use of, was not a betrayal to her. I hoped that, wherever she was, if she could see me, she could also see my intentions to use this power over this man in ways she'd never dreamed- to effect change in a palpable way in the shire of Nottingham, and hopefully stem the tide of evil, greed, and treason that issued forth from the Sheriff.

Well, it was worth a try.

I'd done my hair rather plainly, as was Marian's custom. I preferred to wear it up, with jewels threaded into it, but Marian only ever seemed to care if it were off of her face. I wore no cosmetics, no scent except for that still lingering in my- her- gown. If he looked closely enough, it would be apparent to Guy that, where Marian's hair was of a golden brown, mine was more red than anything. That where her skin was on the fair side, it often bore the golden glow of one who spent much time riding in the sun- whereas mine was the kind of pale that came from always veiling or covering my face when out of doors. Her eyes were bluer than blue, whereas mine were bright green… Hopefully, Guy would not notice any of these discrepancies.

I put a hand to the door before knocking and was met with an almost palpable wave of sadness and grief. If Guy's emotions were so strong from this distance, with a thick wooden door separating us, what must it be like to stand next to him, to look into his eyes? I wondered if I'd even be able to keep on my feet.

I knocked sharply on the door, and was met with a howling sound. The sound finally died down and melted into a human voice, bellowing in a rage…

"Go away!"

I knocked again, met this time with, "I said, be gone!"

I knocked a third time, and preempted his response with a cry of my own, "Guy- open this door!"

The door pulled open, inward, so suddenly that I almost fell in with it. And there, all of a sudden, was Guy.

I'd never seen Guy before this, and felt overwhelmed by his physical presence. The height that seemed endless, the eyes that flashed an intense blue, the heavy black brows… I would have stumbled backward in surprise had he not reached, grabbed, and pulled me into the room. With one arm he clasped me to his side in a vice-like grip and with the other he closed the heavy wooden door.

The room was lit only by the light coming from outside, and that was waning quickly. But in the dimness he peered at me intensely, still not quite seeing me, and I felt lost in the blank worship of his eyes as they beheld my face. Still holding me with one arm, as if afraid I'd squirm away and escape, his other hand came to my face. His hand was so large, he could have held it like a ball and thrown it away. Instead, he tentatively, fearfully, reverently brushed fingers across my cheek, trailed his thumb across my brow, down, and held my chin.

"Marian? I knew you'd come back, I knew it wasn't real. Nothing that separated us ever could be real, could it?"

I reached a hand up, touching his face with the exact same motions he'd touched mine. The eyes, gone wide in his vague delirium, encircled by the darkness of no sleep, too large in the face due to lack of food. I touched his lips with my fingers, then his jaw, then rested my palm flat against his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch, sighing with the weight of his guilt and the last gasps of his sanity, and murmured her name again.

"Guy, have you taken no food?"

"I've no taste since… you… Since I…"

"You mean, since your return from the Holy Land."

"Don't call it that! How could it be Holy ever again? The Cursed Land, the Land Where Evil Dwells, where it possess the hearts of those who thought themselves true… or, perhaps, where Truth comes in ways we'd rather not see it."

"They told me your mind had wandered, but it seems to me that you make plenty of sense. My lord, you must eat, take nourishment. You are unwell."

"If you bid me eat, I'll eat. If you bid me do anything I should powerless against your wishes, as I've always been- you know that. Shall I send for servants- what do you want me to do?"

I could see the perfectly reasonable grounds for the Sheriff's fears- not only was Guy hanging on by a thread, but I'd wager this had always been his attitude toward Marian. No doubt a man so ready to do the bidding of a woman who was helping the Sheriff's enemy must be a liability. Marian had seemed only vaguely aware of Guy's level of devotion to her, but how could that be? He so obviously wanted only for a word from her lips, a return of his ardent touch. Oh, Cousin… Robin must be more than impressive since his return from the Holy Land, to have still chosen him over this man. Then, Robin had always been not only Marian's destiny, but her choice as well- how could the even the blind passion of a man such as Gisborne fight such a thing?

A knock sounded at the door, and Guy held me even tighter while his eyes flashed to the source of the sound, as if trying to see through the impenetrable wood.

"Sir Guy, it is only food for you. And hot water for a bath. I told you- I came to care for you, see that you're all right."

He nodded distractedly, and I gently disentangled myself from his embrace. I crossed to the door and admitted the servants, who were nervously keeping watch of their steps. They were afraid to look around and take in whatever sight awaited them in the room. They'd certainly heard that Guy of Gisborne had lost his mind, and they thought it might be catching. I was rather sure that, upon leaving the room, they'd cross themselves and include other strange, superstitious hand gestures, protecting themselves from the Evil Eye and the madness it caused. Had they known my reputation as a witch, I hate to think what they would have done in response to my presence.

They laid out the food upon a table and hot water in the bath, brought torches so the room was once more lit- in short, provided distraction enough that I had a moment to consider the oddest part of my day thus far- I could not read Guy. Sure, I could feel waves of sadness and mourning, and his joy at seeing my face that he thought was someone else's, but all of these could be felt by any passerby. In all of my days, I'd never met the person who did not confide their thoughts to me, and I was almost scared that the power had left me at this particular moment. Then again, I'd never had a conversation with someone driven to the point of madness in response to having slaughtered the woman they thought their true love while trying to murder a king. I could only guess that his thoughts were secluded behind a wall somewhere, and I'd just have to break it down to gain entry. Could be fun (could be terrifying). After all, he killed Marian once, maybe he'd kill her again if given the chance.

"Food, a bath- which will you order me to have first, my love?"

"The bath. Does it not tempt you, my lord?"

"Yes, it does, but not so much as you." His eyes bore into mine once more, as if willing themselves to be lost there. I smiled and attempted to keep his thoughts on track.

"Shall I help you into the bath?"

He looked around somewhat helplessly. It took me a moment to realize he was trying to find a modest way of disrobing while I still stood there, watching. Seeing his discomfort, I laughed.

"Afflicted with modesty? No need, Sir Guy. I am here as nursemaid and I can withstand the sight of you bathing."

He looked pained and I realized my faux pas- to say that I had not come as a lover, to make him think I was here from concern, not passion, which was what he wanted.

"That is, I mean to say…" Bollocks. How to recover the sense of intimacy that had arisen from his holding me? If he thought I was here from mere pity- or worse, if he suspected I was doing the bidding of the Sheriff- there was a chance none of this would work. I was torn between merely commanding him to get in the damned bath and attempting a more seductive technique.

I crossed back to where he stood, and wrapped my arms around his waist. He stood, as if transfixed by me, shocked as I slid my hands to the end of his shirt, lifting it enough to touch the skin at the top of his trousers. He drew in a sharp breath as my fingers brushed against him.

"Shall I help you off with your things?"

I drew fingers along the small of his back, then gently pushed on his hips with my thumbs- what is it about the way a man's bones press against his skin, just at that spot, the way the muscles and flesh combine just underneath to form lines going down, lower, like a map leading to better things? For half a moment I allowed myself to be lost in a vision of gently teasing him with lips and teeth where now my hands rested, and echoed his sharp breath. I realized I'd closed my eyes and opened them to find him, again, peering at me intently.

To break the spell, and gather my thoughts once more, I took the edge of his shirt and pulled it up. I had to stand on my tiptoes to pull it over his head, but finally succeeded (he helped by bending toward me slightly). When I'd accomplished this task I was met with the vision of a Guy of Gisborne who was nude to the waist, looking at me as if waiting for approval. My mind immediately went to a statue of my father's- a re-creation of Michelangelo's David, of the ideal male form carved from whitest stone. Guy's skin was perfection, and not quite so white as alabaster, but the resemblance was striking. The wide, well-muscled shoulders, narrowing into a slender yet still-muscled waist- I could only stare for a moment.

"Is there something wrong? Do I not please you?"

My voice was hiding behind a wall of desire, and I had to find it. "On the contrary, sir. I assure you."

Good Lord- at the rate this was going, I was going to end up divesting him of his garments, piece by piece, then stare appreciatively for a few minutes at each bit of skin revealed. That would take forever- even though it would be more than worthwhile. But I couldn't do all that I now desired to do to him until he'd eaten and bathed, so best get to that first.

I went to the table, turning my back to him. "I shall make ready your meal as you get yourself into the bath, Sir Guy."

"Are you displeased, Marian?"

I could hear the unmistakable sound of his leather trousers hitting the floor, but did not hear him lowering himself into the water of his bath. I was reluctant to turn around, lest I take one look at him and pounce upon him. I could easily devour him, not unlike a vampire, but that would not be taking his best interests at heart- I was the one capable of bringing him a sense of peace regarding Marian, and it would be selfish to take my pleasure without minding his future and his sanity. Much as I wanted… it would be selfish, right? I had to think of him, right?

"Why on earth should I be displeased? I am with you, am I not?"

In a heartbeat's space I could feel him behind me. His naked arms reached around my waist, pulling me to him, cradling me into the long line of his body. My strength, the decision to wait upon him first, to pretend to be Marian- for half a second it all dissolved completely. I reached up, just behind me, and took hold of the back of his head. I grabbed him by the hair and brought his lips down to mine in a kiss more ferocious than loving- a kiss betraying the hunger I now felt for the man, and none of the concern or tenderness.

His grip around me tightened and I was not even standing on my own two feet, I was wholly supported by him, pressed against him as he groaned slightly into my mouth. I felt a stirring against the back of me, and knew that he was at least partly coming back to himself- or, at least, parts of him were coming back to life in a way that would prove useful.

I released him and pulled back.

"Marian… Marian…"

"Guy- I'm sorry… I couldn't help myself. But the thing now is that you must bathe and you must eat. After that, we'll attend to other matters. You aren't well just now- forgive my weakness, but I shan't take advantage of you just like that."

"Take advantage? How could that ever be? All that I am, ever have been or ever will be- it is all yours, Marian. How can it be called taking when I offer it so willingly? I have never been anything but your man, and if you desire now to take possession of me in any way, it is only the culmination of all I ever desired."

"All I desire is your well-being, Guy. You forget yourself- you forget how long you've been shut in here with only your own thoughts, no food, no company. You must eat something, and then… We'll talk more of this once you're in the bath, understand? My- you're like a child, not wanting to get clean lest that distract it from playing! Go, get in the water, I'll bring your food to you. Go!"

He released me and walked away. I took a steadying breath, exhaling only when I heard him in water.


	3. See Right Through You

"There, I'm in the bath. Satisfied?"

I turned around and had cause to wish I'd ordered a milk bath. The water did have some mint leaves and lavender flowers in it, floating on the surface, giving off a most beguiling aroma- but none of the leaves or flowers were enough to obscure my vision of a naked, reclining Guy. I should have told the servants to not bother with lighting the torches- if we were still encased in darkness, this would be easier. I wouldn't be moved by the sight of a very large, painfully attractive man who was advertising his services as my slave.

What would Marian do in this situation? She'd probably find a way to tie him to the bath and escape to Robin somewhere. Or, she'd yell about being a decent maid, slap Guy, then leave. She was the sort of high-minded person that would let feelings crowd out the possibility of taking great pleasure from sating one's desire. Any attraction she might have felt for Guy had always been dampened by her assessment of him as a man lacking in honor. Which is fair- he burned down her home, etc. But, still- how could she have ever denied this man?

"You aren't angry with me, are you Marian?"

I sighed, and walked over to the bath with a goblet of wine and small tray of food.

"How could I ever be displeased with you, Guy? I am displeased with myself a bit, that is all."

"Are you not going to explain that I am a low creature and my very touch is vile upon your skin?"

"I had no plans of doing so. Would you rather I did?"

He took the proffered goblet and drank deeply.

"No, I'd rather you not. But you tend to do that sort of thing. Has everything that has passed between us, perhaps, made you think better of me? I always… I had hope, always, of you seeing me as a better man than I knew myself to be. But you kept rebelling against me, spurning every attempt to show you my devotion. Why come to me now?"

"Oh, Guy- zounds." I went to refill his cup and returned to find that he'd devoured the loaf of bread I'd given him. "I did always see you as better than you saw yourself, but I also saw you differently. You've always had qualities of honor and greatness- it pained me every time you denied those urges so that you could obey the wishes of the Sheriff."

"That was only ever-"

"No! We speak no more of our differences in the past! What is the past to us? What does it leave except for memories, mostly unpleasant? Can we not, instead, think about the here and now, maybe the future?"

"The past also leaves scars. Some in our minds, some on our flesh…" He held out his arm, showing a scar that looked as if he'd been burned by acid. It was mostly healed, but it was a hard thread of solid white, mottling the smoothness of his skin.

"That's not from something I did, is it?"

"Of course not- this is from the Sheriff. Recall the time that I was taken hostage by your _Beloved_… Your… I didn't mean to call him that. I said it mockingly, but then I heard your voice, remembered what you said just before… You don't really love Robin Hood, do you? You aren't truly going to wed him, are you?"

As he said the above, instead of growing angry, he seemed to shrink back into himself, was all but curled up, like a hurt child. Had that been the straw that broke his back? Had Marian, at the last, confessed her love of Robin to Guy? Oh, Marian- of course he ran you through, foolish girl!

I lifted his face and looked into those eyes. "Guy, I swear it- I will never marry Robin- I have never loved him. Sometimes women say silly things for no reason, you know that." I apologized underneath my breath to my entire gender for maligning them in such a way.

"You have never been most women," he smiled almost shyly, and his eyes began to lose that lost look they'd borne before my declaration.

"I suppose you have that scar I gave you, though, Marian. Did it ever heal properly?"

I racked my brain, trying to remember Marian talking about scars- she'd said that she'd been grievously injured by Guy once, while masquerading as the Night Watchman. She'd even told me that, once he learned of her double identity, he'd checked the scar first thing, as confirmation. But she'd never told me where it was.

"I don't want to talk about our misunderstandings. You and I haven't always agreed, but I am here now, as are you. What could matter more?"

He closed a hand over mine as it lingered on the edge of the tub. He traced fingers up and down, and I closed my eyes, thinking that the thrill of heat he was sending through me hummed so loudly it must be audible. I let the heat spread from my hand and upwards, causing a flush of my cheeks. I opened my eyes, feeling them go dark with desire as I tilted my head toward him.

"I think," he said, leaning forward, "that what could matter more than anything else is the imperative for you to get in this bath with me. What say you, my lady?"

My mind screamed, "Yes, please!" but I leaned back from him.

"The tub seems a bit small for two, Sir Guy."

He took my hand more forcibly, and pulled me toward him until I was perched, nearly falling against him.

"I think we could make it work, Marian."

He pulled again and I had to brace myself against his chest to stop from toppling. "Pull any harder, and you will soon learn not only exactly how heavy this dress is when soaked completely, but also how difficult it is to remove under such circumstances. We'd have to wait for it to dry before our evening could proceed." With both hands I pushed him away from me and he slid easily back, knocking into the other side of the tub. He winced as his head banged against the bronze, water sloshed about, and I had to react quickly to regain my balance.

"You know, Sir Guy, I am occasionally someone with dignity, but it always seems, in your presence, as if that all counts for absolutely nothing."

"Then you might be beginning to feel a fraction of what I have always felt, not just in your presence, but any time your name is even mentioned in conversation. Share and share alike." He grimaced at me as he rubbed the part of his head that had been hurt. I stuck my tongue out at him until he laughed, then reached behind and began to unfasten my dress.

His eyes grew wide as they followed the progress my hands made. I turned my back to him so he could watch as I untied the ribbon and then loosened it. I slipped my arms from the sleeves, and pushed the dress down, over my hips, then stepped from the pool it formed upon the ground. When I turned to Guy once more, I was wearing only the thinnest linen sheath.

_Author's Note: Thank you to all of my very kind reviewers and anyone else who's bothered to read this far. I appreciate it so much! I only hope that you keep liking it..._


	4. Your Spine Is Ablaze

I approached him once more, holding out a hand. He accepted, and I helped him balance as he stood and stepped over the high edge of the tub. There we stood- he naked and dripping wet, me nearly naked, smiling. Covering his hand with mine, I began to unlace the ribbon which was holding close my last remaining garment.

But instead of taking the ribbon, his hand began to quake, and he pulled it back. I almost had enough time to wonder what was wrong when he broke the silence with a bellow that seemed pulled from within his very soul.

"Marian, I cannot!"

"Guy, what is the problem? Are you that reluctant to see me with no clothing?"

My pathetic attempt at lightening the suddenly grim mood was ignored as he sank to his knees. I had a hopeful half-moment of thinking he was about to just dive into a more intimate acquaintance with my more intimate parts. But instead of a spontaneous offering of untold pleasures, he lowered his head, nearly twitching at some sort of internal torment.

"Marian, I know my wits are scattered. I know I've probably lost my mind many times over in the last weeks. I don't know how you're here, I never thought ghosts could have such solid flesh…

"What I do know for sure is that once you disrobe, it will be there- the hole I stabbed through your side, the hole left by my sword when I betrayed you and all the love in my heart and ended your life. You are here and you say our past doesn't matter anymore, but I know the truth- that I murdered you. I know it in my heart and have no wish to see the evidence of it in the markings on your skin."

At the final words of his agonizing speech, he threw his arms about my waist and I could both hear and feel his panting sobs against my hip. I stroked his hair and shushed him as if he were a child. I allowed him a moment to wrestle with the thoughts rushing through his mind, all those for which his voice and strength had failed him. But at his outburst, his walls had fallen and I could see my way clear through them, could see exactly what I needed to do.

I took his chin and forced him to look into my face. I saw decimation in his eyes, heard defeat in his breaths, and heard, in his mind, a blind, desperate hope for redemption. A final bid toward becoming the man he always wished to become, but who, with this last act, he feared was dead forever.

"Guy, go sit on the bed. Do as I say."

He rose to his feet, crossed to the bed, and sat on the edge. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. I went and stood in front of him and his eyes followed my movements while the rest of him was perfectly still.

"I am no demonness, sent from the fires of the Pit to torment you with visions of your deeds. I am no angel, sent to torture you into confessing your sins and accepting sacrament in lieu of heavenly dispensation."

His eyebrows quirked, startled that I'd seen his fears. I began to loosen my slip of clothing as I spoke, loosening it enough to slip it over my shoulders, down over my hips, and to the floor. His eyes followed its path, widening ever more at every additional inch of exposed flesh. But instead of a lascivious glint, his eyes betrayed only a baleful hunger as they swept my chest, my stomach, my hips, searching for evidence of his violence. In the end, my lack Marian's scars was the saving grace which Guy required.

I stepped between his splayed legs, forcing him to sit up straighter, and edge slightly further back on the bed. I touched his face and he turned once more to my gaze.

"However it has come to pass, whatever explanations are true, I stand before you- flesh and blood." I took his hands, placing one on each hip. "You can feel me, and you know I am no trick of either your mind or the gods."

I moved one of his hands, laying it flat against the now-racing beat of my heart.

"Feel my heart beating? My heart cares not for yesterday, it cares not for tomorrow. It cares only for the fact that now, even if only for now, we are here together." I moved the hand to my stomach. "Do you see scars? Do you feel wounds? Or do you only feel the way my skin grows warm at your touch?'

I moved even closer and his arms wrapped about my waist, fingers trailing up and down my spine. In a movement as reflexive as thought I maneuvered myself until I was straddling him on the bed. I embraced him, pulling closer as his arms wended more tightly about me.

"Does my body show evidence of betrayal? Does it seem regretful of anything other than that this is the first time we've held each other in such a manner?"

I loosened an arm from his shoulder enough to touch his face, trail a hand down his neck, to his chest, tracing the curves of his flesh over collarbone, brushing with fingernails, just to hear the change it brought to his breathing. His wide eyes bored into mine, and while I felt singed by their blue fire, they spoke of a fear- not knowing what to believe, afraid this culmination of desires was just another aspect of his delirium.

"For everything you have done, Guy, for everything you will do- I've already forgiven you." I raised myself up and in a movement almost too quick for him to either follow or believe, before he could offer more protests or even brace himself, he was inside of me, and I was slowly lowering myself ever further upon him. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting my face convey the relief and satisfaction as my blood sang in response to what I was doing. His hands paused in their trailing up and down my back as I began to raise up with a painfully slow deliberation. I opened my eyes and was rendered briefly motionless at the expression in his eyes, the thoughts in his head- all bespoke a mingling of adulation, disbelief, and nearly unbound joy. As if a great opiate had taken hold his senses- in a moment of shock I realized that I was the opiate in question.

Our movements found a complimentary rhythm, steadily increasing as the cool sweat of our chests allowed them to slide easily together and apart, his hands holding on to my shoulders, as if to avoid falling away from the world entirely. He began to close his eyes, and I had to find my voice on the other side of my own belabored breathing.

"No- keep your eyes open. Look at me. I want you to see my eyes when I say…"

I knew that I was about to come, I knew he was close as well, and the time would never be better for me to say the words he needed to hear, to speak them with eyes open to everything, so he could not see the deceit in them (and, truth be told, in that moment, as his strokes began to draw more and more pleasure from the very core of my being, I thought it might not be a lie).

"Guy of Gisborne, I love you with my very soul."

And the satisfaction came, roaring through us at almost the same moment, our eyes never wavered, despite the rolling intensity of our bodies moving together and apart, despite his fingers pressing so stridently into my flesh that I would be peppered with fingertip bruises for days, with my fist grabbing onto his hair like a brace, as I groaned with inarticulate pleasure and he could only call out Marian's name.

_Author's Note: More to come... so to speak. _


	5. Felling Any Foe With My Gaze

We stayed like that a moment, clutched together, finding our breath. I finally disentangled myself and moved to lay back upon the bed- his hands grasped my arms tightly, as if afraid to surrender me.

"It's all right, I'm just coming right over here."

I laid down on my back and he laid his head on my stomach. His arms and legs were wrapped around me, like a living breathing blanket, and I gently ran my fingers through his hair.

Having nothing to say, we did not speak, just held each other and listened to the silence in the room as the torches faded and then extinguished themselves. After a long, long silence, I thought he'd fallen asleep. I began to shift my weight to roll onto my side, but his arms tightened. He rose over me- I could not see him in the dimness of his chamber, but felt him as the shadows around his form shifted slightly. He rested his chin on my sternum, and I could feel his gaze, imagined I could see his great, sad eyes as they combed the place where my face was.

"Are you trying to leave?"

"No, Guy, I had no intention of leaving. I was just adjusting."

"Am I hurting you?"

"Not a bit, just shifting my weight a little. What do you want to ask me?"

Sometime around the last time he bellowed Marian's name, the walls of his mind had closed so surely and solidly, it was if I could hear them echo. I'd had an all too brief glimpse of him, and he was gone once more. I had no idea what this boded, and felt silly asking him anything as pedestrian as what was on his mind.

"I want to know who you are."

My entire body froze, and I had half a moment's reflection on the odds that I could slip away from him and bolt from the room. Realizing that could never happen, I took a deep breath and tried, with every skill I'd ever had, to sense from him what my answer should be. I got nothing in return.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, you came to me as Marian. But there's no denying the fact that… Marian's dead." From the pause preceding his words, I knew this was the first time he'd let himself say them out loud. I allowed another pause as he adjusted himself to the power of saying what we fear to acknowledge, as we force ourselves to accept that which goes from the unthinkable to the unspeakable.

"Yes. She is."

"And so you are…?"

Sigh. Now was the time- the time to be honest with Guy, to hit him with truth as if it were a weapon, and pray that his mind and sanity could withstand the assault. If not now, there might never be another chance. Marian had seldom been honest, the Sheriff was only as honest as far as the truth served his own purposes- he needed this from me, and I was the only one who could say these things.

"My name is Matlida. I am Marian's cousin."

"Why did you lie to me?" This conversation was like walking on a tautly drawn bow-string, requiring more delicacy that I usually had to manage, since he was not telling me what he needed to hear, how it could be said in the least painful way. I had a vague notion that the old Guy would have only bothered with this conversation if he already had a dagger pointed at my jugular- and here, he hadn't even a hand around my neck to choke the truth from me. Was this progress? "Valzey sent for me- he was worried. He heard that I am a witch, and he thought I could bewitch you back to yourself. When he saw my similarities to Marian, he suggested I pretend to be her, to offer you absolution."

He sat up, and I missed the warmth and weight of him.

"You are an agent of the Sheriff?"

"No! Well, yes, slightly, I guess. Mostly I'm an agent of myself."

"Then why did you come here? To bed me out of pity? Or as a mission of mercy?" His voice dripped with disdain, with mockery, with tinges of self-hatred. I sat up and reached for him- finding his shoulder, trailing a hand up to his neck, to his face, turning him toward me.

"Guy, I came in here for many reasons, one of them being that the Sheriff was forcing my hand. You, obviously, know him better than anyone- do you think I had the option of saying no when he asked me to do this? But I also thought that I might be able to help you, which is another reason I came. And the other? Well, not to sound wanton, but as soon as I saw you, I wanted to lie with you, regardless of any other circumstance."

"Sleep with me? The man who killed your cousin? The man who burned her home to the ground? And almost forced her to marry him and-"

I closed a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

"Yes, Guy, I know all of those things. I know more than you imagine possible about everything that ever happened between you and Marian. You aren't going to tell me anything that I don't already know."

"How is that possible?"

"I said that the Sheriff thought I could bewitch you? I can sometimes… see and hear things most people can't. And, also, Marian has always written to me- not that she needed to, we never needed letters to communicate."

"Ah, a witch. So, are you sure you're not leaving now? Running back to the Sheriff, telling him all is well, Guy is fixed, he can be his trusty little spaniel again?"

"No. I've no intention of seeing the Sheriff again. I get the impression that the more one sees of him, the greater likelihood of not escaping alive. I have an agreement, signed and sealed by him, that he will not kill me. If I stay in the castle long enough, I'm certain he'll find my clever hiding place, destroy the paper, and dispose of me. And so I plan to leave the castle before he catches wind of it."

"And what am I to do now?"

"Whatever you want, Guy. First, you need to recover from what happened in the Holy Land. You seem to be more yourself than you were when I arrived, and I'm thankful for that. You seem to be functioning, and now you need to decide what you are going to do next."

"What happened in the Holy Land… what I did in the Holy Land, isn't something that goes away."

He finally lay back down and I lay beside him, propped up on my elbow.

"I killed the love of my life- do you think that will just disappear? That I'll forget just because you bedded me? Do you understand that I can't close my eyes and actually sleep, I just hear her voice and see her face, and relive the moment when she collapsed and I let the Sheriff take me away?"

"Guy, I have to tell you something. You're not going to like it, but you have to hear me out. Are you ready?"

I laid a hand on his chest and leaned down, whispering in his ear.

"Marian was not the love of your life. You wanted her to be, so you told yourself she was, but she was not, and even if she'd lived, she never would have been."

"What do you mean?! I… loved her! All this time, all these years, my love for her has been the one thing that…"

"The one thing that offered you redemption? That promised a different life and future for you, a future as something other than being the servant of the vile Sheriff of Nottingham? I know you thought that- you told yourself that so much that you believed it. But… Love isn't about what someone else can offer you.

"I know how it went, really. The Sheriff made you lord of Locksley Manor, but the people never loved you, they were all just waiting for Robin to return so you could be cast aside. He left them to go fight a war for the Church, but they never turned on him-meanwhile, you couldn't win their hearts. And so you found yourself turning into someone you hoped they could respect through fear. Each time you carried out the orders of the Sheriff, you had to silence the part of you that has honor and dignity. Every day you found yourself carrying out acts, both large and small, that required cold, calculated cruelty and indifference to your fellow man.

"But then you met Marian and it occurred to you- if you could win the love of a woman, a good woman, a noblewoman, that would been that you must still have, somewhere, humanity. That you must be worthy of something good and true, if you could earn her love. And you told yourself that you loved her, because then that would make it better when you won her over, wouldn't it?

"Let me put it this way- when did you love her best? Was it every time she stood up to the Sheriff in any way she could? In every defiant word and gesture? Did you love her when she was willful in response to your ultimatums and orders? Did you love her when she was the Night Watchman, protecting and helping the poor?

"Because those were the times when Marian was the most herself that she would ever be. Marian always fought for her ideals, helped the downtrodden, thought of others before herself. She could never have countenanced being with a man who would do anything in his power to support the lackey of an usurper of the Crown- but she could be with a man fighting what seems like a hopeless war to preserve the rights and place of the true King of England. When she loved Robin, she was the truest version of herself she could ever hope to become.

"But at those moments, did you find her the most lovely? Or did you find yourself wishing that once, just once, she'd stay quiet? Did you find yourself wanting to applaud her boldness and take a place by her side, or did you wish she could accept that you knew what was best for the both of you?

"Guy, you wanted her to save you, but it could never happen. The only person who can save you is you. Do you regret what your life has become, who you've become? The only way any of it can ever change is if you change it- if you change yourself. If you start making decisions based on what you know to be right and true, and not just blindly following the Sheriff's orders. That is the only hope for you."

He made a dismissive noise, a skeptical one. "Right and true? It has been so long since I had personal acquaintance with those qualities, I would not know them if they walked up and introduced themselves to me. The things I've seen- no, the things I've done- have left me little faith in the possibility of goodness in the world."

"That's not true, Guy. You're just someone who has been trained to see the world through a strange and distorted glass- through the eyes of the Sheriff. Think, really consider some of the things you've seen, even here in this godforsaken place, and there has been goodness all along. I know you won't like to hear it, but Robin Hood has been fighting for the good since his return from the Wars. He tries to give voice to the people, to correct wrongs done against them. When Marian was the Night Watchman, given food to those who had no other, protecting the weak from the tyranny of the strong- that was good.

"Even you. When you forced Alan A Dale to turn on his gang and he was banished. You didn't have to take him on, you didn't even have to let him live. But you protected him. Do you think the Sheriff would have done that? And when you discovered Marian's secret, about her double life, you didn't kill her, and you didn't let the Sheriff do it, either. You protected her as well. You have your moments, Sir Guy, when you act with honor and decency. For my part, I've a feeling that if you stay here, those moments will disappear altogether, and your soul with them. I think this terrible place will be the death of you- or, maybe just the death of any part of you worth saving. Worth loving."

He reached out suddenly, holding my head so that I could not pull away from him. He brought our faces together, and I realized that my eyes had grown so accustomed to the dark that I could now make out his face, if only slightly. He squinted his eyes, trying to see me.

"I cannot see your face in this light- what did you say your name was?"

"Matilda."

"I cannot see your face at all clearly, Matilda. I've no way of seeing if you mock me, or whether these are things you are saying in the dark to a frightening man who could kill you in a moment, trying to save your own neck."

"Do you truly believe I'd be saying these things to you for my own sake? Telling you things no one else would dare say, even if they had the sight to see them? I know of your reputation for anger, I know your acts of cruelty. I risk my own safety in this conversation, and I know it. Were I the agent of the Sheriff, here to do only his bidding and then flee, I would whisper to you that you are a great man, who does great things, and I'd fill your ears with the poison of Valzey, convincing you to stay by his side always, to always follow his lead and blindly accept his word for Truth. If that man had any inkling of these words of mine, I'd be dead before I had a chance to draw another breath."

He moved his hand down, its strength suddenly applied to my throat, squeezing gently and then not so gently.

"Why do you say these things? What sort of trick is this?!"

He was actually cutting off the flow of air and blood to my brain, and I knew I only had a moment to act. Surprise was on my side as I slid up an arm, between his outstretched arm and myself. I twisted my arm around his and pulled down with all that I had, breaking his grip. In his surprise, he paused, giving me a chance to grab his wrists in mine as I moved on top of him, pinning him down as well as I could. It was an illusion, of course- he was much, much stronger than I was. But his strength had waned in recent weeks, and his moment of anger and distrust seemed to have worn him out. Either way, for whatever reason, he yielded and let me hold him down.

"Sir Guy, I tell you what I see. I tell you what is the truth, because no one else will. If you continue in this way, you will only diminish even further. You will wither away, you will die, and there will be nothing left of you but a wraith. I tell you this because I know, I see- you are more than what you've become. I know you are capable of being a good man, an honorable man- even if you don't believe that. Even if you think you are a monster, some chimera born to wreak havoc and destruction, whom no one ever would or ever could love, who killed in a blind passion his only chance for redemption."

He arched beneath me, and it was as if every part of him were screaming the next words, as if his entire form were bellows, forcing the heat of his soul out in the scream of rage- "I AM A MONSTER!"


	6. Just In Time, In The Right Place

_Author's note: Sorry to interrupt, just wanted to remind anyone reading this that this story is rated _**M**_ for a reason, so if the randy bits are upsetting, skip this... well, I would say chapter, but you can skip the whole thing if you like. Also: I don't have a beta, so for any mistakes I apologize- I'm pretty must posting as I go right now. I take such long pauses between writing fits, I like to get stuff up when I have it. So please bear with me. And, finally: _**I don't even pretend to have the rights to Guy of Gisborne or any other characters within the realm of Robin Hood as owned by BBC (or whoever owns its various copyrights). I mean no infringement, just a bit of fun, so please don't sue me.**

"No, you are NOT!"

This last word I yelled with as much passion as he had used, and my intensity startled him. His breathing changed and I could hear it coming out in gasps, could feel him shuddering with each attempt to draw in air, and realized he was weeping. In that one moment, in that one instance of putting just those words together in just that way, Guy had confessed to me his deepest fear. As he let it free into the room, as he spoke it into being, it was is part of his mind cleared. I could see him, all of him, once more. I could see the broiling self-hatred, the passionate dislike of all that he was, the heart-stopping fear that he was no better than a feral dog in human form, and I could see how completely this fear had him in its grip.

I knew that, even if I had words of balm to offer, they would not be heard above the storms inside of him. He would neither hear nor believe. I released his arms and fell, slowly atop him. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, I lay my face to his, wondering if he could feel my tears on his cheek, or only his own. He turned his face from me, only to lower it, burying it in in my neck. His arms were around me, holding me back at least as fiercely as I clung to him.

When the worst had passed, when my tears had dried and his were stopping, I reached with my hand to touch his face. I smoothed away the tears, I smoothed his hair back, and kept stroking it, feeling a kind of calm return to him.

"Guy of Gisborne, were you really the monster you declare yourself to be, would such and admission be met with sorrow? Could a monster care if that's what he were? I know you believe what you say, and it breaks my heart. But I am certain that if it were true, if you were someone with no humanity left, you would not mourn the loss. A monster cares not if that is what he is. Do you think the Sheriff spends his evenings regretting, wondering if he is evil?"

The thought of the Sheriff feeling sorry for any of his deeds was ridiculous enough that Guy chuckled a bit, and the sound was a welcome change.

"Evil cannot know itself, because it cannot care. It's too busy being evil. If you'd chased the last remnant of good from inside of yourself, you would not miss it. There'd be nothing left of you to care."

He sighed heavily, and moved slightly away from me. I was still on top of him, and I rose to a sitting position, perched like a very strange bird. That was the point at which I noticed that we had still not bothered to clothe ourselves. Despite all that was being said and had been said, even while we'd clutched at each other in tears, my body had taken note only of Guy's closeness. In the silence with which my words were met, I had a moment of contemplate my own wantonness, as I felt a state of readiness spread from between my legs. I was wondering if Guy could feel the wetness as I pressed against his stomach when he spoke.

"That may be true, Matilda. But at any rate, I am no kind of man."

"Amongst the myriad disagreements I would voice at that thought, there is a pressing physical argument being made by yourself, sir."

He raised his eyebrows. I grinned what I'm certain was a wicked grin and I reached behind me, taking in my hand the evidence that not only was Guy a man (quite a formidable man, at that), but a man who was ready for more than just a conversation. I closed my eyes and thought only of what I was feeling as I moved over him, first with only my fingertips, then cupping my hand around him, feeling him against the palm of my hand. Every torrid novel I'd ever read had already said such unoriginal descriptions as flooded my mind at his response to my touch- but it really was like magic. He had been quite hard when I first reached behind me, but half a moment later he was even more so, straining, moving against my hand as I contemplated his sweetly smooth length, the softness of the skin, the heat of it.

I began to move against him as my hand kept finding new places to touch, to feel, and to tease on him. I pressed down, I moved until the flesh of his stomach was pressing against me in a way that made me shudder. I opened my eyes and looked at him- and was met with a look of shock. For half an instant, I thought perhaps he was going to jump up, yell that I was a wanton harlot of a witch, and send me from the room. I stopped everything I was doing and just looked. His eyes kept getting wider, and suddenly he laughed- a big, hearty, throaty laugh that sent ripples through even his stomach, beneath me.

"Do you laugh at me, sir? Do you find my attentions… insufficient?"

"God, no, woman! A witch you may be, but a minx you most surely are. I've never known anyone to change the subject so completely."

"Oh, no, sir-" here I resumed touching him. "I think this was definitely the matter at hand…"

He smiled at me as he moved a hand. Before I even knew what he was doing, his hand was beneath me, separating me from his midsection just enough for him to slide a finger inside of me. I melted around him, I whimpered, and I ceased touching him, focusing instead on the exquisite length of his finger, the way it reached within and seemed to draw pleasure from within the very core of me. A second finger joined the first and I arched up, then back, giving myself over to what he was doing. I leaned back even further, bracing my arms on the bed behind me, opening myself up to him and not caring, only wanting more.

He withdrew his fingers, sliding them up, surrounding the flesh between my lips. When his slicked finger slid over my clitoris, my legs gave out, my arms gave out, but my hips were still raised, asking him not to stop. I felt him move from beneath me, vaguely realized he was moving my legs so that they were not doubled beneath me, but I could not pay much attention as his ministrations continued. The fingers would delve into me, as if he were both teasing me and rewetting them, then they would move again and again around and around, only every so often, ever so gently, flicking across my clitoris again.

After seconds or minutes or perhaps even hours of delicious teasing, I felt him reach around my leg, holding my lips apart from above, and his tongue was where his fingers had been, swirling around. His other hand now free, he again penetrated me with first one finger, then two, moving them in and out in a rhythm that matched his tongue. I could feel release coming, could feel the sweat pouring down my flushed chest, could feel and hear myself panting, moaning, and I was helpless, dissolved into the ever-growing pleasure offered by his touch.

His fingers stopped their inward-outward motion, and I almost cried.

"No, no- please don't stop doing that. Please…"

His tongue stopped as well and I opened my eyes, astonished that he was denying me what I wanted. He was looking at me, his eyes huge dark pools, his fair skin flushed, a wicked smile on his lips.

"Do you trust me, Matilda?"

The naked desire on his face, the lust in his eyes that nothing could hide, and the fact that this time around he was calling me by own name combined to nearly overwhelm me. I couldn't say anything, and his fingers, moving as a single unit, pressed further and further within me.

"Do you trust me, Matilda?"

"Yes, Guy."

The fingers kept going, further inside of me than I would have imagined, and I felt them curl and press down on something I hadn't known I had. The feeling wasn't unpleasant by any means, but neither was expressly for pleasure. Instead I felt a pressure that didn't feel exactly right. Just as I was about to say something, I stopped myself. I said I trusted him, right?

Besides, at that moment, he sealed his lips around me and his tongue began to stroke me with an intense speed that caused all breath, all sense, all memory of language, to leave me in a rush. His tongue continued, ever more frantic, his fingers pressed me from within, and I began to twitch, to press against him. And, just like that, it came- the hardest, the most intense, the most blindly searing orgasm I'd ever known poured through me, broke over me, shattered me into a million pieces. My entire body seized up, I curled around him, I screamed and then I went limp.

Breathing returned a moment later, and the aftershocks with it, like tiny followers on the heels of their leader. I could feel myself still clamping around him inside, rhythmically shuddering as he slowly withdrew his hand. I wanted to say something or do something- return the favor, offer thanks, anything. But I had to concentrate on the task of breathing.

He moved so he was over me, above me, and his hand, the one that had just been inside of me, that was still wet, found my breast. I had been afraid that he had tired me to the point of not being able to continue, but what he'd done was turn my entire body into a single nerve, sensitive to every whisper of touch. He touched my breast, as if weighing it in his hand, then trailing fingers around my nipple, drawing gasps from me. Then his mouth closed over it- licking the juices his hand had left behind. Sucking it in between his lips, applying the slightest pressure from his teeth, his tongue moving over and over it. His hand mimicked his movements on my other breast. In this way, he drew a second orgasm from somewhere deep inside of me, this one left me clinging to him and muttering.

He finally moved so that our faces were even, and I found myself with enough strength to touch his face, to caress his neck, to move my hands to all those places they longed for- his chest, his stomach with its rippling muscles, his back, where I could feel the muscles moving as he adjusted himself above me. I spread my legs, raised my ankles, and made to pull him down closer.

"Tell me you're not too tired for me- I doubt I could stop even if I wanted to."

I raised myself up and bit him- really, not hard, just a nibble- on his shoulder. He groaned, and I began to tongue the marks left by my teeth, even as I pressed my nails against his back. He reached a hand down to guide the way, and a moment later he was inside of me. Though only a few hours had passed since he'd last been inside of me, I had somehow forgotten the size of him, the sensation of how he almost had to make way for himself. If he'd been only even the slightest bit bigger, this might not have worked at all, and as it was he went very slowly, keen to not hurt me (I imagine he'd caused pain while doing this before, whether intentionally or not). It was so slow, and I wanted more, but I didn't want to hurt, so I let him take his time while I nibbled my way down his chest. Finally he had buried himself completely inside of me, and the sensation was one of intense pleasure, just this side of pain.

"I, I don't want to hurt you, Matilda- I'm trying to be restrained-"

I took his face and forced him to look at me. "Guy, you can do whatever you want, as long as you keep saying my name." To show him my sincerity, I began to move, and he had to move as well. I set the pace of our rhythm, and I could see in his face that he worried for me. But after a moment of seeing only the most genuine delight on my face, he let himself go, and the rhythm became faster and faster.

He buried his hands in my hair as he moved above me, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from his face, nor he mine. We watched each other, even as the pace became unbearable, and a voracious edge crept in. It was like a perpetuating hunger, and we both knew it would come to a close soon. But I could not stop watching the way his face moved, the way his eyes changed as his pleasure was on the brink of being released, as he enjoyed everything about its approach. I was nearing a state of delirium, in something like awe at the sensations of everything he was doing to me, and I felt everything rushing through him as well as through me and I allowed myself the briefest moment to wonder if this was it, if my life, my soul, my everything was actually now complete in a way I'd never imagined possible, as the same thought occurred to him, and I saw it in his eyes, and his face, in the smile that curved his lips.

The most startling thing wasn't the we came at the same time, it was that instead of shouting or throwing back our head, we reached for each other in the same moment and kissed, a kiss that was pleasure and promise, questions asked and answered, as if our souls poured out in that one moment.


	7. Steadily Emerging With Grace

On the other side of that one interminable moment, the sweetest I'd ever known, I was reluctant to speak. I was reluctant to do anything but breathe, and I found my body likewise unwilling to release its grasp. My legs were still around Guy's waist, locked together. One arm was locked around his torso, my fingers sunk into the flesh of his back as if holding on for dear life. My right hand was lost in his hair, holding on there, and I considered for a moment how soft and warm it was.

Eventually, Guy moved slightly, so that he was laying atop me instead of perching, and I moved in response, to avoid being crushed by the weight of him. He lowered his head, laying his face against my neck, still panting. Once his breathing had returned to a more normal pace, he began to more fully disengage himself- including from between my legs.

I nearly said something. I nearly protested. I almost said the words, asked him to remain inside of me.

But I caught myself, realized how silly that sounded. And also needy, desperate. I was not a woman who begged for things like that- I was a woman who inspired begging. That had been the thought when I'd entered this room, a lifetime ago. I'd come to bend him to my will; had I not promised Valzey that once I had gained Guy's trust and loyalty, I'd see them returned to their previous holder, the Sheriff himself? It had been the intention.

But seeing and feeling the lost brokenness of Guy had moved me- especially when I realized how much self-hatred had clouded out every other motivation in his life. Not just for what he'd done to Marian, but for nearly every choice he'd made, every cruel and seemingly unrepentant act- all had colluded and made him the wreck he was when I entered.

His hunger for something, anything human and humane had pulled at me, had shattered my reserve in a way I had not thought possible. So much so that, here I was, wishing he would not pull out and away from me, but stay nestled within me for a while longer, so I could feed on the sensation of him filling me in any and every way.

I couldn't help it- I had to laugh. So I did.

Guy was startled, and raised his head.

"Do you laugh at me, madam? Was that experience amusing in some way?"

"No- no, indeed, Sir Guy. I laugh at myself. You have… I find myself quite changed in your presence, in a way that amuses me. To be most truthful- again, that is not something I tend to be, but I find myself wanting to be, when I'm here with you- you have undone me, sir. What can I do but laugh at myself?"

At these words, he moved to the side of me, leaning over, examining my face in the encroaching morning light.

"You look as if you might weep, Matilda. What causes such a reaction- how does it follow so closely on the heels of such moments of pleasure?"

As he spoke my name, I was ashamed to feel even more tears spring to my eyes, enough that some over spilled and trailed down.

"I find the subject of myself infinitely dull, Guy. Let us discuss something else. For example, we could further address the issue of what you plan to do with yourself just now. Before I allowed myself to be distracted, you were saying terrible things about yourself; I hardly flatter myself that I have swayed you from that particular conviction. I wish you would believe me, though…"

He sat up, resting long arms upon his knees, and stared at his hands.

"I, too, find the subject of myself to be one previously exhausted. What else shall we speak of to one another?"

I sat up as well, unconsciously mimicking his pose, just next to him.

The silence drew out, until it became almost a tangible thing lying between us.

"You are going away, then."

"Yes. I travel to France with all haste. I have family there, who can protect me from the reach of even the Sheriff. I've nothing to tempt me to stay here in England. All around, danger grows everyday and I've made enough concessions to the times. I have a small farm of which I am mistress- away from intrigues and plots and trappings of court and society."

"Nothing could tempt you to stay? Not even me?"

His eyes slid sideways, and he gazed at me from lowered brows. I could see how much of himself he'd put in the question, felt his sense of risking much by the query.

"Oh, Guy… If anything could tempt me to consider remaining in England, especially here in Nottingham, it would be you. As unique as this evening has been, as much as has passed between us- you don't know me. You would truly ask a woman who is nearly a complete stranger to stay with you?"

"I know enough." He leaned over and kissed me- not one of the fiery kisses we'd exchanged so far, a rather chaste affair. So sweet, so hopeful. I reached out a hand and touched his neck, allowing myself to ponder, for just a moment, a lifetime spent with Guy, the passionate kisses balanced by the sweet, of a life combining passion with trust. Of being with someone who could keep up with me, and to whom I would never need to hide a thing.

"Do you want to know, truly, why I laughed just now? I'll tell you- because I want to kneel before you and beg you to come with me. Because I want to do whatever it takes to never be separated from you, ever, for as long as I live. Because the thought of leaving you here causes an actual ache in my heart, Sir Guy."

"And that is amusing?"

"Oh, you have no idea. I've never cared for someone else more than myself. I make no apologies for anything I've ever said or done, but I will confess to never having been an angel. I've had to use my gift in some underhanded ways, just to ensure my own survival. I've turned men's hearts toward me and used them as weapons, without them ever being the wiser to my tricks.

"But with you, I want none of that. After a single night with you, I feel like I would turn everything around and upside down, would fight an army of darkness just to keep you at my side, to go through this world with you. As I said, you have undone me.

"Guy- come with me to France. You will be free of everything that has bound you here, every influence that has forced you to turn on yourself. You will have the chance to see who you really are, and be the man I know you to be. Leave this place, and be with me."

"You would ask me- knowing full well the things I've done, things about my past. Knowing I've killed a part of your family, you still ask me?"

I rose to my knees, and turned to him. I took his hand, and placed it upon my chest.

"Much as I would never have believed this would be true, nor that I would ever admit it out loud, hear me now, Guy, and believe me: this is my heart, and it beats now for you. With all of my heart, I would take you with me, and I would ask you to be at my side."

He took my hand, placing it on his chest.

"This is my heart, Matilda. It was broken and if it is no longer, it is all down to you. Do you think I could suffer to part from the woman who called it, and me, back to life?"

He pulled me to him, pressing me to his chest with a force that was nearly painful. He took my lips with his, and we both smiled.

"When can we leave, my love?"

"Say the word, and we are already gone. Only, do you want some rest before we depart, Guy?"

"I've always thought that, when rest is elusive, some physical exertion can restore one just as well. Any idea of ways in which we can exert ourselves before our journey?" He cocked an eyebrow at me, and I was surprised into squealing with laughter as he all but lunged for my neck, kissing a trail across my collarbone. The laughter died on my lips as my blood raced and I had to concentrate to speak words out loud. He began to nibble his way on a line between my breasts, and I wondered that anyone, even someone so obviously strong and virile as Guy could be ready to go again so soon.

"Before we leave, during the journey, and after that, Sir Guy- believe me, I doubt we shall run out of ideas, only…"

I took his chin in my hand, forcing him to disengage from me long enough to look up and into my eyes.

"Is something wrong, my lady?"

"Guy- it's been a difficult time for you of late." He scoffed at my understatement, and I continued as if he hadn't. "I would hate for you to commit yourself to something when you haven't really had a chance to think about all the concerning factors. Much as I want you to accompany me home and, well, through the rest of my days, even more do I not wish you to say you'll come and then have only regrets for the rest of _your _days. So, I make an oath: I will not hold you to promises made in the heat of this moment. I do not want you to feel beholden to me if you decide, at any point, that you want to leave. I'm not the sort of woman to enjoy torturing a good man by forcing him to keep word that was lightly or inconsiderately given."

"Woman!" In one surprisingly quick movement, Guy dropped me to bed, where I actually bounced. "I am Guy of Gisborne! Do you imagine the word of a Gisborne is lightly given? 'Zounds! Fie on you for doubting me!"

All of his bluster was offset by the aggressive way in which he reached down and began to tickle me. Ridiculous as it sounds, ridiculous as it was, I was being lorded over by a bellowing Guy who was tickling me. He kept tickling until I screamed with laughter, but stopped when I almost accidentally caught his sternum with my elbow.

"I've decided that's enough tickling, if that's acceptable to you, Matilda."

He pulled me into his arms, and laid down, sidling his body behind and around mine- a giant Guy blanket. I took his hand- his arm was wrapped around me, and I laid his palm flush against my throat.

"I know exactly what sort of woman you are, Matilda. And, jesting aside, I do not give word lightly. I want to be wherever you are, I want to be whatever you need, and I will tolerate nothing less."

"Guy?"

"Hmmm?" He'd been kissing my neck, and was beginning to move across my shoulder, causing me to stir against him. I took note of the fact that he did, indeed, seem completely indefatigable.

"Where _is _Gisborne? I know you're Sir Guy of Gisborne, but I've no idea where or what Gisborne is."

"If I tell you, do you promise to keep wriggling against me in that particularly delightful way?"

Now that he mentioned it, I noticed that I had been moving against him, relishing the sensations offered by him pressing against me, almost between places I would never have imagined could promise such pleasures. I reached a hand back, trailing nails against his hipbone, down to his inner thigh.

"I promise."

He groaned and gasped, as I found a place to gently squeeze him, one that was evidently to his liking. He pushed forward, catching himself more firmly against me.

"It is the name of a hill."

"Where is the hill?" I moved backward more insistently, and one of his hands found my breasts, pinching my nipple into hardened arousal and just nearly to the point of pain.

"It is- by the gods, woman, speak of being undone…" I pressed my hand more firmly to soft ball of skin beneath his arousal, and his panting became ever more frantic.

"'Tis a hill of no import behind the Castle of Nottingham." He bit into my shoulder, all pretense of gentleness dispersed as he then sucked the wound, as if to draw more blood to the surface, about to break the skin. I slid my leg back, over his, guiding him with my hand until he was inside of me, and he began to move at a frantic pace. Again, the penetration was so filling and complete as to border on being painful, now made more intense by the pace he set, necessitated by his arousal. I moved against him, one leg still thrown back, one hand grasping the bedding, the other holding onto whatever part of him was within reach. His hand left my breast, pushed down my body until it settled over my pubis and began to move against me in another increasingly frantic movement.

It was too much for me- I dissolved, my entire body becoming nothing but a single nerve, receiving more pleasure than it seemed any one thing could endure, and I re-assembled only when his gravelly voice bellowed my name, announcing his own attainment.


	8. I Got Nothing For You To Gain

My heart rate slowed, my vision returned, I once more inhabited my own body. I twisted around in the circle of Guy's arms, facing him. At my movements, he stirred slightly and one of his eyes opened the slightest little bit. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Madame, if you mean to indicate a willingness for further exertions, I must object. Unless you are attempting to actually kill me by coitus- by the way, you've nearly succeeded."

I kissed his nose and smiled.

"No, sir- are you trying to smite me in that way? I am drained, I am devoid of life and energy, I may be too exerted to even sleep at this point."

"Delighted we can agree. What are you doing?"

"I am kissing you. I want to kiss every piece of you, starting with your face."

"You have gone silly. I can sleep while you go about your business, right?"

"Yes." I planted kiss after kiss, covering his forehead, his brows. I kissed my way down the long, strong, perfectly straight bridge of his nose, and nibbled on the tip.

"Gah! That wasn't a kiss! It involved teeth!"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. This nose of yours, is perfect, you know? A nose to give the world reassurance of a nose. A platonic ideal of noses. You belong on coins…"

"I guess I'll say thank you, but you realize you sound more insane, the longer you talk, right?"

His arms locked tighter around me, pulling me even closer. I settled my arms around his neck, and held him to me.

"Your hair is beautiful, you know." I ran a hand through the softness of his thick, black hair and he groaned- not a groan of satisfaction, one of annoyance.

"Do you always spend time after making love discussing the appearance of your bedmate?"

I scoffed. "First of all, I've never in the history of my life 'made love,' and second, no. I'm usually out the door before they wake up."

"What do you call it if not making love?"

"Oh, please, Guy- what, you make love? True, you're one of the most appealing men I've ever seen, but I'd wager your way with the ladies has seldom involved romance and whispered words of adoration. Mine hasn't been that way either. Life has never been that way for me, and that's all there is to it. So, no- I don't 'make love.' And that's that."

"But you did with me."

"Guy, I hate that phrase. Let's keep with referring to it as coitus. Weren't you going to sleep?"

"Oh, yes." He closed his eyes obediently, and resettled his head against my chest. I continued running hands through his hair, feeling him relax with every pass, feeling his entire body going still.

"You sleep now, and then you'll wake up. And when you do, we'll get ready, and we'll go. We'll just go, you and me. We sneak away to France, and we see what happens…"

"I should tell you." His body jerked slightly, as if he'd actually fallen asleep but stopped himself, and his voice was thick with it. "Outside of this room, I'm not the man I am with you. I'm rough, I growl, I stomp about demanding obedience from those near me. Here, it's different. But outside, if I do those things, will you be scared? Will you think I lied to you?"

"You talk such nonsense, love. I said I know who you are, and I do. Here, there, in France- do your worst, I'll always know the truth. If I bow and simper and pretend to be subservient and docile in the world outside, will you doubt me? Will you think I lie?"

"No, love. I know you, too." I lowered my face, pressing my forehead to his.

"And so Guy of Gisborne will leave Nottingham, escaping the maneuverings of the evil Sheriff."

He smiled, his lips against mine, and took up the train of thought. "And shall go to France with Matilda the Witch, who won his heart. And after that?"

"After that… Everything else."

"Forever… and ever…?" His voice was falling asleep with the rest of him, trailing away.

"And forever after that, love." He sighed, and fell asleep. I stayed awake and planned. We would leave Nottingham, we would leave England. And after that? I refused to think past that, and instead wove the plan of how we'd get out of the castle without the Sheriff knowing. Eventually, once I had confidence in a path to take, I let myself drift off to sleep as well. I held him more and more tightly, knowing I'd never, ever let him go.

The End

_Author's Note: Okay, it might just be The End for now… I might end up revisiting Guy and Matilda, seeing how they're doing at some point down the road. But this part is done._

_That being said, I can't thank any and all of you readers enough. This is the most visited story I've posted here, and I can't believe how many people have checked in. To those of you who've reviewed, thank you as well- I don't always respond directly to reviews, because I tend to be repetitive and gushing in my thanks, but I appreciate all of you who've taken the time to respond to what I've written. I hope you've liked it!_


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